


Home

by Progman



Series: Storming Heaven [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Abandonment, Acceptance, Belonging, Bonding, Collateral Damage, Community - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Epic Speech, F/M, Family, Final Battle, Home, Homecoming, Homelessness, Isolation, Love, Old Wounds, One True Pairing, Penultimate, Racism, Rage, Romance, Showtime, The Edge - Freeform, True Love, rant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Progman/pseuds/Progman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the united fleets converge on Arcturus to prepare for the final assault on the Citadel, Shepard struggles to find her place in a post-reaper galaxy. Lucky for her, Garrus knows exactly where she belongs. Home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Mass Effect is owned by Bioware, EA, Elkoss Combine, yadda yadda yadda, who gives a fladoodle.
> 
> The following work was beta'd by the ever talented BSG-Legacy.

Countless wafts of superluminal light swept over the _Normandy’s_ bridge. An impossible rainbow tore through the viewport and blanketed the cockpit with a sea of ever-changing color and intensity. Streaks of red, blue and everything in between caressed the darkened interior, staining it with illuminated brilliance.

 

“Clearing the Arcturus Prime relay in forty seconds, Commander.” Joker manipulated the haptic interface in front of him and prepared the kinetic dampers for FTL-deceleration. “Guess we’re about to see if all that politicking actually paid off, huh?”

 

Shepard rested her hand on the shoulder of his armchair and flattened out the front of her dress blues. “It damn well better. They’ve got nowhere else to go now. We’re all they have left.” The bright, damning light of the of FTL-transit surged around her, reflecting and bounding off of every contour and curve in her figure.

 

_When this is over, I’m_ personally _getting desertion charges upped from ‘treason’ to ‘war crime’._

 

Shepard burned a hateful glare into the endless black void and instinctively folded her hands behind her back. “Get us into position as soon as we clear the relay. Set a beacon. I want us in the center of that fleet.”

 

Joker nodded and effortlessly tapped a few commands into the aerogel display. “Roger that. Ten seconds.” He grabbed the brim of his hat and took a deep breath of finality. “And here...” He cracked his knuckles and activated the kinetic dampers. The entire hull rattled in response, but Shepard stood her ground. Unfazed and unafraid.

 

She looked over at EDI's mobile platform and couldn't help but feel that the AI's 'body' was somehow more stoic than usual.

 

_Maybe she's scared. Hell, she’s basically alive now. Why_ can’t _she be terrified like the rest of us? It’s a God-given right!_

 

Joker hovered his agile hands over the controls, ready to bank the _Normandy_ into whatever direction or insane maneuver he needed to keep flying. To survive. To win. “...we...”

 

The endless low-mass channel began to collapse around them and perceivable light started to pierce through the bridge, the stark blue-white a blinding contrast to the stunning luminosity of null-space.

 

_Moment of truth. God, please let them be there._

 

Shepard set her expression into a cold glare and unconsciously balled her hands into fists. Her knuckles went white, and a tiny crackle of dark energy shuddered it’s way around her clenched fingers and spine.

 

“Go.”

 

The _Normandy_ surged out of the relay and tears of blue and red sheared their way across the outer hull. The black void was undone thread by endless thread until it ripped apart, screaming backward into some forgotten realm behind them. The powerful red starlight of Arcturus burst through the viewport, searing away the remnants of the impossible transit-light from their forms.

 

Shepard remained absolutely still, eyes facing straight ahead into the last bastion of hope the galaxy had left. She knew she couldn’t see anything from this far, but part of her genuinely hoped that her vision would be filled with untold thousands upon thousands of allied ships in formation.

 

The familiar chimes of the _Normandy’s_ deep-scan sensor arrays came pouring in as they moved closer to the staging area. She stared at Joker’s primary display intently and moved a step closer. “What have we got?”

 

Joker rested his head on his hand and flicked the lazily flicked the interface. “Just debris, exposed drive cores, and a mass grave of the Second Fleet.”

 

Shepard screwed up her face in a lip curling sneer and powerfully gripped the pilot’s armchair. “ _Scan again.”_ She squeezed the plush leather cushioning and the hardened polymers beneath it creaked from the stress of her augmented strength. “The Sixth Fleet was supposed to be our foundation! Where the hell are they?!”

 

EDI interjected solemnly. “Shepard. You are not breathing.”

 

Shepard set her jaw and realized that, no, she _wasn’t_ breathing, and was beginning to feel very light headed. “Oh. Right.” She took a few soothing breathes and released the chair from her vice-grip. “Thanks, EDI.” Shepard absently adjusted her cuffs as she tore her gaze away from the red giant. She sighed wearily and once again flattened out the front of her uniform with a few smoothing strokes of her hands

 

“You are welcome.”

 

Joker stared blankly up at Shepard. “...you done ruining my chair?” Shepard frowned at him. “Alright! Jeez.” He returned his attention to his console. “Look, I keep scanning. LADAR, radar, passive scans...but I’m not picking up anything.” He gestured flippantly toward the display. “Since we can’t exactly be at the wrong _Arcturus._..” He shrugged meekly. “Well, y’know, we could be _early._ For once.” He scoffed and moved the _Normandy_ further into the system. “It’s not _impossible._ ”

 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, right now we’re the _only_ ones here.” She glowered at the empty space where the rest of the fleets were _supposed_ to be and grunted in rage. “Get us into position. Drop the beacon. Disengage the IES. EDI, Update me if---” She set her jaw. “--- _as_ they arrive. Link fleet status and war room datafeeds to the CIC.”

 

EDI nodded and furrowed her brow. “I will do so, Shepard. Although, it is possible that the Salarian Third Fleet is already in position, but have chosen to activate their own stealth drives to prevent detection from Reaper forces.”

 

Joker shook his head as he disabled the IES. “Doubt it. Knowing the salarians, they’d have hailed us by now. I pretty much set off a flare with the LADAR, not to mention what we’re venting from the heat-sinks, so if they aren’t talking...they aren’t there.”

 

“ _Fantastic._ Keep me posted.” Shepard pivoted on her heel and stomped her way back to the podium at the heart of the ship. She squared her shoulders and forced her hands to fold behind her back, lest she start tearing apart the wall fixtures. Every crewmen she passed was purposefully ignored as she delved into a self-induced tunnel vision. Any caught in her wake quickly stepped aside for fear of being at the receiving end of her misplaced wrath.

 

_If we lose this thing because those idiots got_ cold feet, _so help me God I’m going to break down the gates of heaven or the walls of hell and torture those bastards for the rest of eternity._

 

She circled around the center of the CIC and gave Traynor a small nod of respectful finality as she walked up to the galaxy map. “Specialist.”

 

The communications specialist returned the gesture. “Commander.”

 

The dimmed light of the CIC and holoprojection meekly glanced off of the commander’s dress blues. The decorations on her breast glowed faintly, and the dark, contrasting colors of the awards negated any sense of warmth she might have had. A subtle shiver crept it’s way up Shepard’s spine. She felt isolated. _Cold._

 

She tapped the ship-wide intercom beside her and leveled off her voice. “This is the Commander. We’ve arrived at Arcturus, though it seems the Sixth Fleet, along with the rest of the allied forces, are running late. Rest assured, I’m confident that our brothers and sisters in arms will _not_ abandon us in this fight. They’ve all got their homes to fight for, and so do we.”---

 

_Well, most of us._

 

\---”Begin combat preparations. Shepard out.” She clicked off the comm and sighed raggedly.

 

_They’ll be here. They_ have _to be. I didn’t fight this damn hard just to get left at the altar!_

 

Shepard blinked and stared straight ahead.

 

_Huh. Interesting choice of words._

 

Shepard braced herself on the railing and glared accusingly at the projection. The hologram shifted from a representation of the galaxy to an in-system display. A single, tiny, blinking blue strobe highlighted the _Normandy’s_ location in relation to the relays.

 

_That’s...very disconcerting._

 

“...any word on our allies, Traynor?” Shepard ran her hand through her hair and frowned. “Comm traffic? Last minute cancellations? Catastrophic fleet-wide drive core failure?”

 

_Please let it_ not _be that last one._

 

“Uhm. We’re getting a delayed mass-transmission from Admiral Hackett. He instigated total communications silence until everyone is in position....” Traynor frowned. “...He gave the order using standard FTL-comms four hours ago, and we were out of comm buoy range when he sent it...”

 

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ok. Alert Hackett via QEC that we’re already at the staging area. Going back wastes time and fuel, so we’ll just wait it out.”

 

Before Traynor could issue a response, several dozen blue strobes lit up on the display. Shepard gripped the railing tighter and stared hopefully at the new arrivals.

 

_Too small to be the Sixth, or any of the primary fleets. Volus are jumping in with the Hierarchy, so it’s not them. Elcor are linked with the Hanar, so that’s out. Terminus is piggybacking with the First. And it can’t---_

 

_No._

 

_No. No._

 

_No. No. No._

 

Shepard widened her eyes massively and she clenched the railing so hard it warped to her hand with a loud creak. Her hopeful gaze degraded into a raging sneer and her stomach filled with vitriol.

 

_NO. NO! NO NO NO!_

 

Joker chirped in through the intercom. “ _Commander, uh, Hegemony Navy just jumped in system---”_

 

“NO!” Shepard screamed, much louder than she intended. A few less seasoned crewmen turned to stare at the break in their commander’s usual stoic demeanor, but quickly corrected their mistake when they saw just how enraged she truly was. She ground her teeth and let loose a growl only Traynor was close enough to hear.

 

“ _Ooohkay, I take it you figured that one out. Wait, though. It gets better. Or...well,_ worse. _Guess who’s hailing us.”_ The new batch of blue markers were slowly forming up around the _Normandy_ , and Shepard felt a wave of nostalgic dread wash over her.

 

_God. The_ Normandy _surrounded by batarian warships. This is my nightmare. Excluding the reapers, of course._

 

_..._

 

_Goddamnit._

 

Shepard puffed air out of her nose and her hateful glare set itself ablaze with genocidal rage. “By all means...” She took a deep, calming breath and planted her feet. “... _patch him through.”_ A wicked, vengeful snear grew across her face as she unlocked her hands from the railing and folded them behind her back.

 

The hologram in front of her disseminated into thousands of colorless particles as they established a connection to the hegemony’s flagship. The tiny orbs molded together at a staggering pace and reformed in the shape of a batarian. Green facial ridges. Yellow stripes. Vomit-colored complexion. All of her rage personified.

 

“ _Balak._ ” Shepard set her jaw and glared straight into the four eyed devil’s black depths.

 

“Shepard. I didn’t expect to see you here without the support of your fleets.” Balak matched her hateful glaze, but remained still. “Has the assault already failed? Or was this just an elaborate ruse to draw out the last of my people?!”

 

_For the love of_ God, _any day but today! Literally_ any _day!_

 

Shepard’s jaw dropped to the floor. “What? You arrogant, malicious, _warmongering_ bastard. Do you _really_ think that I’d unite the races of the galaxy _just_ to lure your people into a killbox?” She flared her nostrils and scowled. “Frankly, the batarians are a little below my pay-grade right now. I’ve got a _reaper invasion_ to deal with.”

 

Balak snarled and his four diluted eyes narrowed with disdain. “You have the _gall_ call _me_ a _warmonger?_ You slaughtered three hundred thousand of us in the blink of an eye! You committed _genocide!”_ His gesturing became erratic and desperate, and crewmen in both CICs watched their respective leaders warily. “And the galaxy just sat and _watched!_ What gives you the right to succeed where I failed?! Why am I known as a terrorist, but you are considered a _hero?!_ ”

 

His words blared a nauseating echo in her head. Her temple pounded furiously and her eyes twitched with fury. Somewhere, deep within the recesses of her mind, an ancient mental block cracked. Nearly two decades of suppression was a powerful force, but the reapers had a way of tearing everything apart. Physical or otherwise. The fracturing grew larger and larger until the barrier shattered completely.

 

And the walls came crashing down.

 

Shepard laughed maliciously, and her eyes darkened in barely restrained bloodlust. “The cruel, hard truth is that _I don’t even know.”_ Her voice dropped several octaves. “And honestly, _I don’t even care.”_ She hummed nostalgically and tilted her head back in a musical chuckle. “Do you know what people called me before I was the ‘Savior of the Citadel’? I was the _Butcher of Torfan._ ” She bared her teeth. “I’ve made a _career_ on killing batarians! I had cut bloody swaths through _thousands_ of your kin even _before_ Bahak! I would cut through thousands _more_ if I could!”

 

Balak screamed in pure fury. _“_ Do you not harbor _any_ regret for the lives you took?! You destroyed a _star system!_ Billions upon billions of credits lost in resources and industry! Countless generations, _gone_! If we had more warships, I wouldn’t even _consider_ fighting the Reapers! I would focus all of our strength into devastating the rest of your colonies! Aratoht would pale in comparison to the atrocities I would commit to your people!”

 

She yelled back at him, matching him decibel for decibel in racial hatred and leaned over the railing toward his projection. “The defining moment of my life was obliterating Aratoht from the face of the galaxy! I cried tears of joy for _weeks_! I sleep easier knowing that _I_ was responsible!” She jabbed her index finger into her sternum. “That it was _my_ hand that sealed their fates!” She cackled like a madwoman, and Traynor’s, along with the rest of the crewmen save Joker, face went pale.

 

Balak screeched over the comm. “I WILL WATCH YOUR WORLDS----”

 

Shepard snapped her tongue violently, cutting him off. “I saw three hundred thousand demons _burn_ right before my very eyes! And I cherished every. Last. Second of it.” She scoffed and evened her tone to that of an afterthought. “I could have warned them, you know. Given them two whole hours to evacuate as much they could. But I didn’t. I wanted to kill as _many_ of you as I possibly could.”

 

Balak snarled and glared his four eyes at her. “You’re a _monster.”_

 

She grinned wickedly and mockingly stood at attention. “The batarians are nothing but a _blight_ upon on this galaxy. One that must be _cleansed_ in pure, cauterizing _fire_!” She held up her hand, palm up, and it blazed in brilliant blue. “The deep, _festering_ wounds your monstrous race has left on the galactic community are irredeemable.”

 

Balak scowled in silent rage, having completely run out of megalomaniacal things to say.

 

She swallowed and looked down at him in contempt. “When this is all over, I’m going to _personally_ ensure that the batarians are nothing more than an ‘unfortunate casualty’ of this damn war. Even if it takes me the _rest of my life.”_

 

There was a long, terrifying silence between the two commanders and their crew. Only the machine hum of the drive core sustained the dead air from turning to the point of insanity. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard saw Traynor mouthing the words ‘sixth fleet’, eyes still wide in abject fear.

 

The Commander grew a demonic smirk.

 

Balak slowly regained his composure. “You will not survive. I can call off our support on a whim. Then we shall see how you fare against the reapers. _Alone._ ”

 

Shepard laughed once and clasped her hands together. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m _Commander Shepard._ ” She raised her arms in presentation. “I don’t fight alone.”

 

Balak’s ethereal form disseminated into the galaxy map, and instantly hundreds upon hundreds of blaring blue strobes ignited into existence.

 

Joker crackled through the intercom. “ _Sixth Fleet just cleared the relay! We’re in business!”_

 

The CIC erupted into loud cheering and celebration, and for a few minutes everyone forgot about the impending assault on the Citadel. Shepard tapped into the intercom and leveled her voice. “Alright, people! We’re not out of the woods yet! Stay focused and we’ll get home in one piece. Shepard out.” She clicked off the comm and adjusted her collar.

 

_Boy, am I glad Anderson wasn’t around to hear that. Not sure how he’d take it._

 

Shepard slowed her breathing down to a calm, even level and her soul-ingrained rage vanished from view. She turned and snickered at Traynor’s terrified expression. “Oh. Traynor.” She sighed. “Batarians only fight well if they’re racially enraged. It’s their culture. It thrives on...hate.” She shrugged.

 

Traynor pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ll...take your word for it, Commander.” She furrowed her brow and wrung her hands. “Did...did you---”

 

Joker cleared his throat through the intercom and interrupted her. “ _Got a priority transmission from Admiral Mikhailovich, Commander.”_

 

_Quite the step up from chewing me out in the C-SEC docking bay. 63_ _Rd_ _to Sixth. Now_ that's _progress._

 

“Hold that thought, Specialist. Duty calls.” Shepard nodded and turned back to the galaxy map. “Patch him through.” She squared her shoulders and steeled her expression.

 

The galaxy map evaporated and reformed into the projection of Admiral Mikhailovich. Shepard saluted him, and he returned the gesture. “Commander. How long have you been sitting here with these homeless dreck?”

 

Shepard felt a searing pang of isolation tear into her spine but buried it before it could reach the surface. “Not too long, sir. We were getting worried when they showed up instead of the Sixth, but we managed well enough.”

 

Mikhailovich grunted and folded his hands behind his back. “Glad to hear it. Sorry we kept you high and dry. Techs wanted to make sure we were as ready as we could be. I’m sure you understand.”

 

Shepard nodded. “Of course, Admiral. I’d have done the same.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

 

“Granted.”

 

Shepard tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “I think the squints are gonna to try to turn tail and run. You might want to block course plotting with a wolf pack or two. At least until we get them to the front ranks.” She shrugged. “Then...it’s up to them if they want to survive or not.”

 

Mikhailovich hummed in amusement. “Noted. I might just take you up on that advice, Commander.” He made a half-turn, paused and faced her again. “Oh. I just want to let you know, no matter how this ends, I was wrong about the _Normandy._ ”

 

Shepard smiled and nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Godspeed, Commander. We’ll take over the formation duties from here. Mikhailovich out.” The hologram of the admiral melted back into the galaxy map and Shepard snorted in amusement.

 

_Took him long enough._

 

Shepard blanked her expression and turned back to Traynor. “So. What was it you were going to ask me?” She crossed her arms and watched the other woman intently.

 

“Did you really... _mean_ all of that, Commander? What you said about the batarians? It was...very vivid.” Traynor looked at her with genuine concern and Shepard frowned.

 

Shepard blinked.

 

_I meant it with every fiber of my being._

 

She blinked again.

 

“My personal opinion of the batarian race is irrelevant. What matters is that we have gather as many fleets and allies as we possibly can, build the crucible, deliver it, turn it on, and win the war.” She shrugged. “Those were my orders, and I’ve done my part. Now we just wait and see if everyone else delivers.”

 

Traynor took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand, Commander. So...it was just theatrics, then?” She stared at the commander hopefully, and Shepard blinked a third time.

 

_Nope._

 

Shepard frowned and took a step toward the other woman. “Traynor...” She massaged her forehead and sighed. “Hypothetically, what if I told you that we were allying ourselves with the remnants of the _collectors_ , because they opposed the reapers? Would you refuse their help, or accept it?.”

 

Traynor bit her lip as terrifying visions of Horizon flooded into her mind. “If...” She hesitated as seeker swarms burned through her mind's eye. “.. if they can fight the reapers, I wouldn’t turn them away.”

 

Shepard nodded and scratched her cheek. “Right. Good. But does that mean you’re friends with them now? The ones who were trying to exterminate your friends and family? Your home?”

 

Traynor frowned and crossed her arms. “Friends? No. Never.” She shook her head. “All they’d ever get out of me is...tolerance...at best.”

 

_So damn naive. They’d kill us all the first chance they got._

 

Shepard raised her brows and snorted. “Tolerance. Huh. That’s a new one.” She turned her head toward the galaxy map and furrowed her brow. “How’re you holding up, Traynor? I can’t imagine the last few days have been...good.” She returned her gaze to the other woman and smiled matronly.

 

Traynor held her head high and folded her hands behind her back. “I’ll be fine, Commander. I can dwell and brood over what I’ve lost after we’ve beaten the reapers. You needn’t worry about me.” She smiled sheepishly. “Thanks for asking, though.”

 

Shepard narrowed her eyes and stepped down off of her podium. “Not sure I believe that, Specialist. You just saw your home burn a few days ago.” She rested a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder and gave her a tender squeeze. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re hurting from something like that.”

 

Traynor set her jaw and furrowed her brow with vengeance. “I am, but I’m....” She inhaled quickly. “I'm only going to fight harder because of it!” The communications specialist blushed she unintentionally raised her voice. Shepard removed her hand and blinked. “The reapers... they destroyed my home. They _burned_ it down.” Traynor frowned as she found her confidence. “I’m going to do everything I can to end them for that. And then I’ll go back, and I'll rebuild it.” She smiled wistfully. “...better than it ever was before.”

 

_And there it is._

 

Shepard steeled her expression and defaulted to standing at attention. “Congratulations, Specialist. You are now _officially_ part of this war.” Shepard firmly shook Traynor’s hand. “Everyone needs a home, and you can’t fully commit until you’re fighting tooth and nail to take it back.”

 

Traynor smiled sadly and nodded. “Thank you, Commander. I have no intention of going home until we win this thing.”

 

Shepard furrowed her brow at the woman and then glanced sidelong at the galaxy map. “Be..” She slowly turned back to it and walked back up to the railing. “...be thankful you can.” Shepard manipulated the display and zoomed in on a cluster and star system she hadn’t thought about in years.

 

_Mindoir._

 

“See this? Mindoir. Small farming colony in the traverse that nobody cared about.” She tapped a few commands into the interface and the display date rolled back sixteen years. Small images of slaver ships were peppered around the planet. “Batarians hit it back in 2170. Set the crops on fire, melted the prefabs...” Shepard swiped her hand across the time readout and it began to crawl back to the present. Her hand absently wandered to the back of her neck. “...pretty much scorched earth to the letter.”

 

_Might as well have salted it._

 

She turned back and frowned, her hands still firmly placed on the railing. “Point is...I know how much this hurts, Traynor. Watching your home burn. Losing everything...” She gripped the already warped railing harder and took a deep breath. “It’s the kind of pain few should ever know.”

 

Traynor nodded and swallowed. “I appreciate that, Commander. I won’t let you down.”

 

Shepard furrowed her brow and glared at the image of her homeworld. “Specialist. Your performance has been sterling, and far beyond my highest expectations.” Traynor smiled wide. “No. You _won’t_ let me down. Know why?” She swiped her hand at the projection and the galaxy map reappeared, only to be overlayed with a detailed war map of every reaper controlled area.

 

The galaxy was bright, searing red.

 

“Because now _everyone_ shares that pain, Traynor.” She pushed off of the railing and smiled darkly at the other woman. “For once, we’re all in this fight for the same damn reason.” She took a ragged breath. “We're fighting for what he had to leave behind, so that we could save it.” She swallowed and felt a cold, numbing shiver crawl it’s way up her spine. “Don’t forget that.”

 

Traynor stood at attention and saluted. “I won’t.” Shepard returned the gesture, held it there, and then walked briskly over to the elevator. “Commander, where are you---” Traynor tracked the commander as she started to leave the CIC.

 

Shepard stepped into the lift and folded her hands behind her back. “Crew deck. Personal business. Don’t worry. I’ll be back just in time to stop the reapers.” She smiled warmly and the doors slid closed in front of her.

 

_Goddamnit._

 

Shepard smacked the interface to take her to the crew deck. She balled her hands into fists at her sides and gritted her teeth. Her body surged forth with dark energy and erupted into a brilliant blue glow.

 

_Three months._

 

Every city harvested, every world burned, every system tattooed with their caustic bloody glow. Up until now, they had breathing room. They could maneuver, plan, evacuate, attack, retreat, regroup, rearm and reassess.

 

_Three months of sacrifice. Three months of resistance. Three months of the impossible. Three months of hope._

 

Now there was nowhere to hide. Nothing more to defend. Nothing more to plan. The galaxy had cast off the bonds to their homeworlds, and abandoned them in favor of the single most desperate hail mary operation in galactic history.

_Three months of terror. Three months of genocide. Three months of torture. Three months of insanity._

 

Shepard roared and slammed her biotically charged fist into the wall.

 

“GODDAMNIT!”

 

The heavy sheetmetal hull warped under her force with an ominous creak. Shepard cursed as torrents of pain shot through her hand and up her arm. She groaned in distress as she tried to carefully remove her bloody hand from the crater. Her fist was dug in deep, and she wasn’t going to be able to free it quickly without prying it out. Trickles of dark blood seeped through the cracks of the dented surface and around her hand.

 

_Crap. This is gonna hurt._

 

Shepard furrowed her brow and steeled her jaw as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She took a few deep breathes and braced herself on the floor, knees apart. Feet firmly planted on the ground.

 

_It’s like tearing off a band-aid! Just do it fast!_

 

She gritted her teeth, gripped her wrist, and used all of her augmented might to pry her hand out of the deformed wound in the wall. Her hand slowly sliced itself out of the crevice, shearing off a considerable amount of her skin along the way. Shepard held her tongue through the entire ordeal and finally, mercifully, freed herself from the wall.

 

The moment her hand was free she backed herself up against the opposite wall and screamed as all of the pain she was suppressing hit her with it's full force.

 

“FfffffffffffUUUUUUUCKKKKK!”

 

Shepard breathed heavily and carefully unclenched her fist. She stared down at it, and grimaced. The skin on her knuckles and back of her palm was nearly torn off completely, and her red blood was seeping onto her dress blues.

 

_Chakwas is not gonna be happy._

 

She took a calming breath and sprinted out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, heading straight for the medbay. Shepard burst through the door and the doctor nearly leapt out of her chair to meet her.

 

“Shepard! What’s---oh.” The doctor chuckled with mirth and quickly retrieved a medi-gel applicator from her supply cabinet. “Come here, Commander. Let’s see if we can’t fix you up for the big fight.” Chakwas clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

 

Shepard frowned and sat down on the edge of the operating table. She held out her bloody hand and rolled up the now stained sleeve. “Thanks. Doesn’t feel like anything’s broken---goddamnit!” The doctor didn’t waste any time and immediately slathered the exposed flesh with medi-gel. Shepard gripped the underside of the table to ground herself from the pain and hissed.

 

Chakwas scoffed and began wrapping the wound in a bandage. “Shepard, I’ve seen you shrug off wounds that would take down a krogan. So chin up and explain to me _exactly_ how you managed to cut up your hand...” She smiled warmly and patted the commander on the cheek.

 

_I don't know_ how _she stays so cheery._

 

Shepard looked away sheepishly, like an embarrassed child in front of her mother, and bit her lip. “I...punched the elevator. Biotically.”

 

The good doctor frowned and held her bandaged hand in her own. “Having doubts of our victory, Shepard?”

 

Shepard furrowed her brow and snapped her vision back to the doctor. “No. We’re _going_ to win this. I’m sure of that...provided that the rest of our allies actually _show up_.” She grunted in frustration.

 

Chakwas hummed softly. “They’ll be here. I don’t think either of us have known Hackett to go back on his word. I take it the batarians hit one too many nerves, then?”

 

Shepard blanked her expression and stared into the doctor’s eyes for a moment. Her presumption wasn’t completely false, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. And honestly, she didn’t come down here to talk to Chakwas. As much as Shepard hated to admit it, confiding in her was wasting time that she didn’t have.

 

So she lied.

 

“Yeah. They have a way of doing that.” She shrugged and pushed herself off of the table. “We good here, doc? I mean, how long until this is healed up?” She gripped the wrist of her damaged hand.

 

Chakwas folded her hands behind her back and smiled wide. “You’ll be cleared for duty just in time to stop the reapers. Be thankful you didn’t break your hand. It would be terrible if we failed because _someone_ couldn’t restrain their hatred for elevators.”

 

Shepard scoffed and smiled back. “It would, wouldn’t it?” She walked toward the exit of the medbay and nodded in gratitude toward her old friend. “Thanks, Karin. For everything.”

 

Chakwas nodded back and rested her hands in front of her. “You’re very welcome, Shepard. If given the chance, I’d do it all over again.”

 

Shepard furrowed her brow in surprise. “Even the Collector Base?”

 

“Well, obviously not that part! If I’m doing it again, I’d know to _avoid_ that nightmare!” She laughed musically and settled back down in her chair. “Good luck, Shepard. Don’t take too long out there, or I’ll start to worry.”

 

Shepard grinned and shook her head. “No promises.” She took one last look at the medbay broke into a power walk across the crew deck and slipped into the main battery.

 

Garrus was, as per usual, fully geared up and hunched over the main terminal. “Garrus. Everything running smooth down here? No last minute hiccups or catastrophic failures of the Thanix?” Her tone was cold and distant, despite her words clearly being a joke.

 

He spun around as the doors closed behind her and his mandibles clamped down on his cheeks in concern. “Not that I’m aware of, Shepard.” He bore his teeth in a sly grin. “But I’ll let you know the moment molten metal oozes through the hull.”

 

She chuckled lifelessly and crossed her arms. “Good to hear. Can’t have the flagship of the unified fleet breaking down mid-fight, now can we?” She smirked, but her dead eyes suggested it wasn’t genuine.

 

Garrus hummed and quickly deactivated the terminal behind him. “No. I suppose we can’t.” He furrowed his browplates and turned to stare at her intently with his piercing blue eyes. “What happened to your hand?” He walked over to her and carefully rested her damaged palm on the flat of his gloved talons.

 

Shepard gave a small smile as she saw just how tenderly he was holding her. “Uhm.” She scratched her forehead anxiously and grinned at him. “I biotically punched the elevator.”

 

Garrus purred in amusement and shook his head. “You just can’t get over that, can you? Spirits, you have _one_ bad experience with an elevator and you swear vengeance on their entire race.” He playfully nipped at her cheek. “Not many could get away with that...”

 

Shepard snorted and frowned at him. “It wasn’t about the _batarians,_ Garrus.”

 

Garrus hummed in concern and his mandibles flickered. “Something else on your mind, then?”

 

Shepard took in an exhausted breath. “Yeah.”

 

“How big?”

 

“...pretty big.” She bit her lip, crossed her arms and looked away.

 

“We’ve got some time...” He softly rested his talons on her cheek and turned her back to him. “...talk me through it.”

 

Shepard nodded and stared at the floor silently for a long moment. “Okay.” Eventually, she looked back up at him with a defeated expression. “Been thinking about...what this all means.” She gestured to the ship around her with both hands. “What...I’vedone. What I didn’t...” Shepard sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s a lot to take in, Garrus.”

 

Garrus planted his talons on her waist, and she leaned into his touch and swallowed. He looked down at her with absolute certainty. “You’re not alone in this, remember? I’m here. I always will be.” She smiled up at him and her hands found comfort in his breastplate. “So why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.”

 

Shepard sighed and curled her head into his neck. “A lot. A lot of things.” She chuckled darkly and her hands found their way to the back of his cowl. “I made _everyone_ abandon their homes for this, Garrus. For this stupid, desperate last-ditch-effort of a plan, and I’ve got everyone and their varren backing me.”

 

Garrus purred and delved his plated lips into her hair. “That’s not _new_ problem, Shepard. As I recall, we’ve been in this situation a few times already.” He chuckled. “More or less.”

 

Shepard snorted and allowed her eyes to close as his flanged voice resonated through her hair. “I’d say a that’s a big yes on the _more,_ Garrus. And...God. Have we really done this so many times that it’s _routine_ now?” She laughed with mirth. “...not sure how I feel about that.”

 

“I like to think of the first few as _very engaging practice_. That way, the impossible doesn’t seem that way. Since we’ve done it all before.”

 

 

Shepard pulled out of his embrace and stared up at him, almost angry and desperate. “No. No, we _haven’t_ , though. This...” She bypassed him and walked over to the console. “...this is _different._ ” Shepard scowled at the bow of the ship and balled her fists. “This war is _personal!_ ” She spun around to meet his gaze, her expression lost and terrified. “It’s never been that!”

 

Garrus furrowed his browplates and turned to face her, mandibles fluttering in confusion. “Of _course_ it’s personal. Shepard, everyone aboard this ship has seen their home burn. They’ve had to lie awake and wonder why _they_ survived when _billions_ didn’t.”

 

Shepard looked away and hoisted herself onto the terminal. She gripped the underside of the console and bit her lip. “Not everyone.” Shepard looked back to him, eyes wide in shame. “Not me.”

 

Garrus softened his features, tilted his head and said her name. “...I don’t understand.”

 

Shepard gripped the underside of the console harder. “Mine was already _gone,_ Garrus. I’ve known that pain for sixteen years.” She took a ragged breath. “I wasn’t lying awake at night wondering why _I_ survived...” She swallowed. “I was _praying_ that I could end this war fast enough so the galaxy could be spared that pain. That utter hopelessness in the wake of losing _everything.”_

 

Garrus shook his head and quickly moved over to her, resting his talons on top of her hands.. “No one has lost hope, Shepard. You’ve made sure of that.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I lost my home. You _saw_ me lose it up on that moon. I haven’t lost hope. I’m still here. I’m still fighting.”

 

“And what are you fighting for, Garrus? What drives you to make _every_ shot count? What makes you so confident that no cost is too great to end this war?” Shepard glared accusingly at him and wrestled her hands free to stroke his damaged mandible with her wounded palm. “What, in this fucked up galaxy, still gives your heart a reason to beat?”

 

Garrus stared into her with his pale blue eyes for a long moment. “You do.”

 

Shepard clenched her jaw and slowly shook her head. “No. No, that’s what you want after this is all over. You’re not fighting for _me,_ Garrus. No one fights a war like this for just one person.” She nuzzled his forehead with hers. “This isn’t personal because I’m here with you.” She raised his head to meet his eyes with hers. “It’s personal because you’re fighting for _Palaven._ Your _home._ ” Her nostrils flared. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

 

His breathing grew silent as he contemplated her request, and Shepard could see in the back of his pale blue eyes that he was struggling to prove her wrong She knew that every time he sealed the locks on his armor, he thought of Solana. After every corrupted turian he put down, he thought of his father. Every breath Garrus took reminded him that the air he was breathing wasn’t of Palaven, and that a few thousand more of his people had been snuffed out. And through it all, she was _sure_ he’d been thanking the spirits that his mother hadn’t lived long enough to witness the horrors of the Reapers. “I can’t.”

 

Shepard smiled sadly. “I know. And I still love you.” Her fingers gently traced his clan markings, as if they would break if she were to eager. “Liara is fighting for Thessia. Tali for Rannoch. Kaidan and James are _both_ fighting for Earth. EDI for her right to exist. Javik for vengeance. Joker for Tiptree. Cortez for Ferris Fields. Traynor for Horizon.” She stifled a sob. “It’s _personal_ to them. When the dust clears, they have somewhere, not just _someone_ , to come back to. To rebuild.”

 

Garrus furrowed his brow plates against hers, a sensation that she grew to find absolutely adorable and wonderful. He spoke in a low whisper. “Are you trying to tell me that a war with the _Reapers_ isn’t personal to you? I seem to recall that they killed you once.” She snickered. “At the very least, you could join in Javik’s vengeful brooding.” He hummed. “Just don’t expect me to follow along. I’ve done enough brooding as it is.”

 

Shepard sighed wearily. “You don’t understand, Garrus. I---”

 

Garrus interjected, forceful yet compassionate. “Then keep talking. I’m not leaving until I understand.”

 

She searched his eyes for doubt, and finding none, she continued. “I don’t _have_ a home to fight for. I don’t have a _family_ to avenge. I’m homeless. I’m an orphan.” She took a ragged breath and planted a tender kiss on his leathery mouth. “Earth isn’t a symbol I can rally behind. It means _nothing_ to me. I’ve got no stake in this fight, Garrus.”

 

Garrus sighed and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. “I suppose fighting for life as we know it is out of the question, then?”

 

Shepard grunted. “An army fights for the cause, Garrus. A soldier fights for everything else.” She closed her eyes and listened to his bellowing heartbeat, the constant and controlled rate having a calming effect. “This whole war, I’ve just been powering through. Drifting from mission to mission. I don’t _believe_ in this fight.” She bit her lip and he embraced her tighter. “And God, do I need to right now.”

 

“Well, then I’m going to _give you_ something to believe in.” Garrus purred a comforting tone. “Believe in _us_. Believe that, if we could make things work while the galaxy crumbled around us, there isn’t anything we can’t endure. Together.”

 

Shepard smiled sadly and gave a tiny shake of her head. “It’s not enough.” She choked back a sob and peppered his neck with urgent kisses. “I love you, with _everything_ that I am.” Her voice dropped several octaves. “Don’t you _ever_ think otherwise.” She took a deep breath and her tone returned to normal. “But ask yourself. Would it truly be enough for you? If Iwas honestly the _only_ thing you had left? For this war... would it be enough?”

 

Garrus pulled her closer to him, mending her uniform against the hardened contours of his armor. “No. No it wouldn’t be.” He took a pained breath clenched his eyes shut. “Come home with me. Palaven has plenty of room to spare.” He chuckled. “I hear prime real estate right next to the big red glow _just_ opened up.”

 

“You’re goddamn right I’m coming home with you. I was going to follow you home like a lost puppy, even if you hadn’t asked me to go.” Shepard sighed weakly into his neck. “I’m gonna get fancy new implants so I can walk around in the sun with you.” She swallowed and her eyes brewed with tears. “But it’s still not my home, Garrus. It’s yours, and I’ll be there with you...but I’m _human._ I’m all soft and...” Shepard winced and held back as many tears as she could. “... _barefaced._ ” That horrid and despicable word left her lips like bile dripping lazily to the floor. Her stomach wretched and contorted as sobs shook her body.

 

Garrus’s eyes shot open in understanding. “...barefaced...” He pulled his head back to look at her, tears and all. “I’m not defined by my home. By my family. But you already knew that...” He took her good hand and rested it on his undamaged cheek. “This means so much more to you than it does to me, doesn’t it?”

 

Shepard clasped her other hand over his scarred mandible and stared him down. She choked backed the rest of her cries. There would be time for that later. After they won. “Yeah. It does. Because every time I look at you, I can see that you belong _unconditionally_ to something larger than yourself.” She furrowed her brow. “It’s a physical manifestation of _everything_ I’ve ever wanted.” Shepard smiled grimly. “A home. A family. Acceptance.” Her fingertips trailed along his markings. “Always just out of reach.”

 

His blue eyes lit up and his mandibles parted in a smile. “It’s high time that the hierarchy learned to be a little more...mmmm... _flexible_ with it’s membership, don’t you think?”

 

Shepard laughed loudly and punched him in arm. “Good lord, Garrus! Is that seriously a trigger for you?” Her mind snapped into focus as she processed what he had just said behind that terrible euphemism. “Wait. What?”

 

Garrus had already moved over to rummage through his small trove of personal items by the time Shepard had regained her composure and grunted in frustration. “Just a moment. I seem to have misplaced...oh. Right.” Her brow narrowed slightly as he reached into one of his heat-sink pouches and retrieved a small, metal, oval shaped container. “I figured I couldn’t lose it...if I always had it on me.”

 

“Oh. Oh my God. Is that...” Shepard trailed off, speechless.

 

Garrus nodded and daintily passed the small canister to her. “It is. It took me a long time to find the right shade of blue...” He purred softly as she very carefully inspected the object with wide-eyed wonder. “...but it was worth it.”

 

“Yes. It was.” She held the canister in her lap and looked up at him. “How...long have you had this?”

 

“Around nine months. Finally found it when you called that ‘mandatory shore leave’ on Illium. Like to think it’s brought me some good luck. Got promoted. Found _you_.” She smiled. “It’s...” His mandibles fluttered nervously. “...not for humans. Or asari. I...uh...wanted you to repaint _my_ markings. I hadn’t thought you wanted this.”

 

Shepard smirked anxiously. “Can’t be your mate without marks, big guy.” She smiled kindly and sniffed back more tears. “Wouldn’t be right.” She took his talons and placed them on her cheeks. “I did my research. I know what it means.”

 

Garrus’s mandibles parted in the biggest smile she’d ever seen on him. “Yes, I’ll be your mate.” He chuckled at how casual that proposal was. “I’m starting to think that it isn’t just _me_ who lacks romantic instincts.” Garrus carefully picked up the canister and unlocked the top. For all they knew it was the last one in existence, and he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by being clumsy.

 

Shepard laughed musically. “Says the turian who learned the tango while serving on a _warship!_ Yeah. We’re both hopeless.” As he began to move over to his desk to retrieve one of his tiny maintenance brushes, she urgently grabbed his forearm to halt him. “No.” She steeled her expression and gripped him harder. “Not like that. Traditional.”

 

Garrus slowly turned back to her, furrowed his brow plates, and said her name. “...even _we_ don’t mark our mates like that anymore. It’s not common practice.”

 

Shepard grunted in frustration. “Goddamnit, Garrus! Are you gonna paint my face or not?”

 

He blinked and shook the lunacy from his head. “I am. Not sure what I was thinking...” He handed her the opened canister, which she held onto for dear life, and quickly removed his gloves. “Keep in mind, the stings quite a bit for turians, so for you...it’s going to hurt.” Garrus set them on the console beside her and she returned the container to him. “Alright. Now hold perfectly still.” He dipped his talon into the blue paint and chuckled. “...I may have neglected to buy the thinning solution...”

 

Shepard blanked her expression and stared at the back wall as she gripped the underside of the console. “Garrus, if you think _pain_ is going to stop me from being bound to you, you clearly don’t know me at all.”

 

He slowly traced the outline of a dark blue curve along her cheekbone and under her eyes. “Hmm. I didn’t think it would stop you. I just thought you’d appreciate knowing why your skin caught fire.” He filled in the borders with several clean and clear strokes, and evened out the coloring with a few dabs of his talon.

 

Shepard bit her lip and tightened her grip on the underside of the console. The paint, which was designed to bond with organic material analogous to _leather,_ was burning and blistering her skin from the inside. “Thanks. Shoulda asked this before but...the anti-anaphylaxis meds counter this too, right?”

 

Garrus stifled a chuckle and began work on the blocky suspension on her cheek, where a mandible would be. “Mostly. At worst, you’ll get some inflammation and a rash because of the chemical bonding. But since you’ve been taking such a high dosage...” He brushed the new section until it was a solid deep blue and dipped his talon back into the paint. “...then it’s just going to hurt for a few hours.”

 

Shepard set her jaw and her squeezed the underside of the console so hard her knuckles turned white. The paint felt like napalm was boiling away her skin. “Just in time to stop the Reapers, right?”

 

Garrus moved to the other side of her, taking the canister with him, and mirrored his work from her other cheek. He made a few preliminary outlining strokes of his talon along her skin. “Yeah. Just in time.” He etched in the markings just below her eye and carefully moved down to the secondary portion. “Think Anderson will approve?”

 

She grunted as her face became numb. “He damn well better. Besides, it’s not like him to thank me for bringing the entire galaxy to Earth, and then chew me out for the ‘political ramifications’ of my actions.” She snorted.

 

Garrus forced himself not to laugh, lest he lose his steady hand, and finished the last few bits of the lower half of the mark. “Now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that sounds like something Udina would do.” He linked the two sides blue together over the bridge of her nose and made a few clean brushes to fill in the gaps.

 

“It’s _exactly_ what he’d do. He’d have a point, though. He always did.” She blinked and pushed the receding pain away from her mind. “Shame he got desperate. He did a lot of good.”

 

Garrus completed the design with a few quick and accurate fine-tuning flicks of his talon and stepped back to inspect his work. He refastened the canister and set it on the console. “And...there we are. Now no one can call you barefaced.” He flared his mandibles in a turian smile and effortlessly slipped on his armored gloves.

 

Shepard quickly grabbed the canister and held it up to her face to use as a makeshift vanity. She smiled as her face came into view, now proudly adorning the illustrious blue markings that she so easily identified with ‘Vakarian’. Of Palaven. She tilted her head, inspecting every angle and perspective and then looked up at him, smiling as wide as she possibly could. “God. I love you.” Shepard laughed and carefully rested the container beside her. “When does the paint dry? I wanna kiss you.”

 

“It’s already dry---” Shepard pounced on him, wrapping her legs around his waist while she supported herself by snaking her arms to the back of his neck. He reflexively entwined his arms around her back and cupped her head. She crushed her lips against his leathery mouth in a passionate kiss. After what may have been several minutes, she pulled back and smiled, unclasping her ankles and lowering herself to the floor as she did so.

 

Garrus cleared his throat. “...I love you, too.”

 

Joker, in a display of his impeccable timing, chirped through the intercom. “ _Sorry to interrupt what is probably a really personal moment---”_

 

Shepard scoffed. “You _know_ it was!”

 

“ _Doesn’t make this any less important, Commander!_ Might _wanna come back up to the CIC. The seventh...okay, wait,_ all _of the Hierarchy just cleared the relay._ And _the Volus! Okay, seriously. Wow. Just...w_ ow. _That is_ a lot _of ships!”_

 

Shepard cleared her throat and snapped back into her self-assigned role. “On my way.” She reluctantly peeled herself off of Garrus and began to march briskly toward the elevator. As she approached the exit of the battery, she motioned for Garrus to follow. “You coming?”

 

Garrus flared his mandibles in a wide smile and fell in line beside her. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

 

They walked swiftly to the elevator, and Garrus set the lift for deck two. Shepard took one last meaningful glance at the memorial wall just before the doors closed and steeled her expression. As the doors opened, the two of them basked in the calm, soothing light of the thousands upon thousand of blue strobes that blared on the galaxy map. Pillars of gold, silver and blue shined brilliantly from them both and reflected endlessly onto one another.

 

Shepard stepped forward confidently with a hint of hesitant awe in her pace and climbed up to the podium. She caught Traynor staring at her markings a moment, but the woman quickly returned her attention to her duties after they made eye-contact. Shepard folded her hands behind her back and smiled from ear to ear as another burst of blue light ignited on the projection.

 

“ _That’s the...Salarian Third Fleet!_ See _, EDI? No stealth drives. And....huh. Well, wouldn't you know it, looks like the First is joining them, too! Bet the dalatrass is fuming over_ that _one.”_

 

Garrus silently moved out of the elevator and stood just below Shepard on the main level. She turned around and smiled at him. “It’s lonely at the top, big guy. Won’t you join me?” Shepard leaned against the railing and watched him walk up the tiny staircase, throwing protocol to the wind for the moment.

 

“ _Republics just cleared the relay! Aaaaand_ there’s _the Destiny Acension!. Damn, this is just_ crazy! _EDI,_ please _tell me you’re taking pictures of this.”_

 

“You know...I’m starting to see the appeal of command...” Garrus chuckled as he gazed upon the CIC from an entirely new perspective. He settled his talons along the railing and stared into the ever-increasing collection blue strobes.

 

Shepard smirked and rolled her shoulders. “That’s not even the best part.”

 

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

 

“Gladly.” Shepard set her jaw. “EDI, patch me through to all ships. Priority Channel. Holo-transmission.” She furrowed her brow and absently traced her new markings with her fingertips.

 

Garrus nodded and stepped down from the podium as EDI linked her into the FLEETCOM.

 

_Showtime. Last one out, turn off the lights._

 

“This is Shepard.” She folded her hands behind her back and took a deep breath. “We’ve fought a long campaign, and we’re finally nearing the end. This last battle, this _last fight_...it’s not military. It’s _personal._ We’re not fighting over resources, or religion, or petty social squabbles or anything else so abjectly meaningless anymore. We’re fighting for those we left behind.”

 

She raised her voice with pride. “Those who are trapped on our worlds and cry out for salvation. Those who pray for death, rather than face the madness a moment longer. The reapers burned our homes, slaughtered our families and nailed us to the wall! They stripped away our culture, our community, our place in the galaxy! That was their first and _last_ mistake.”

 

She glared with fury at the projection in front of her and braced herself on the warped railing. “We are alive! When you strip away all that we are, all that is left are our instincts! That is what the reapers lack! When _we_ strip away all that _they_ are, were and ever will be, they have _nothing._ All they can do is wither and _die.”_

 

_They want a shining beacon of hope? Well, I’ll give them one._

 

Her body hummed powerfully and surged with a massive flux of dark energy. Endless arcs of biotic energy crawled along her form and her light became blinding. “Now they’re going to see _exactly_ what happens when they force us to rely on our gut! Each and everyone of you had a choice in this war. Fight or Flight. You all _chose_ to fight! None of you _ran_ when they poured through the relays! You grabbed a rifle and started shooting.”

 

_Bring it home._

 

Shepard stood tall and roared over the combined din of the endless sea of warships. “The men and women of the galaxy are _done_ running from the might of the Reapers! For today, the galaxy rages out in one voice! For today, we break _this_ cycle! For today, we fight _back_! For today...” Shepard grinned wickedly. “...we _TAKE BACK OUR HOMES!”_ She shot her fist into the air and her radiance spiked in a brilliant display of searing blue.

 

The deafening cry of thousands and thousands of warships simultaneously erupting into raucous applause, cheers, celebrations and the odd cat-call nearly shorted out the _Normandy’s_ speakers. Shepard grinned violently and her biotic energy dissipated around her. “Let’s get this done and so we can all go home. Shepard out.”

 

EDI cut the feed and the applause in the _Normandy’s_ CIC quickly died back down to relative silence.

 

Shepard blinked several times and was more than a little surprised despite herself. She laughed musically as the brunt of the catharsis hit. “... _holy shit._ ”

 

“Spirits.” Garrus stared up at her for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “I don’t think it’s actually _possible_ for us to fail after a speech like that.”

 

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” She crossed her arms and smiled down at him.

 

“ _So...Fifth fleet_ just _cleared the relay. Do you wanna...redo the speech or...?”_

 

Shepard shrugged and motioned for Garrus to join her once more atop the podium. “It’s fine. I’m sure Hackett has one of his own. Didn’t mean to steal his thunder there...” She chuckled. “...that one just kind of got away from me.”

 

Garrus made his way up the stairs and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Luckily, _one_ of us is responsible. Because I’m not letting you get away from me.” His mandibles parted in a warm turian smile.

 

“Hmm.” Shepard brought her hands around cowl. “So...” She grinned from ear to ear. “...what was that about ‘glow-front’ property?”

 

Garrus laughed and pulled her a bit closer. “Very cheap. Only problem is...we have to build our own house.” He sighed and she curled her head into his neck. “When this is all over, we’re going to have to take a class on using hammers.”

 

“I’d ace that damn class.” Shepard smirked. “I used to be a farmer, you know. I know my way around tools and crops.” She chuckled darkly. “I think I’m gonna be _really good_ at this ’reconstruction’ effort.”

 

“ _Commander, the SSV_ Orizaba _just jumped in beside us. I’ve got a priority message from Admiral Hackett. He’s requesting to come aboard.”_

 

Shepard smirked triumphantly. “Permission granted.”

 

Garrus nuzzled his markings against hers. “You’ll have to teach me.”

 

“It’s a date. As soon as we get home?”

 

“Yeah. As soon as we get home.”

-/o\\-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I got an anon review on my last story, "Unfocused", that wanted more 'notes'. I'm pretty sure that person meant more author's notes, so here yah go!
> 
> Remember "Take Back Earth"? Hah. Subverted.
> 
> It always irked me that Shepard was so adamant about fighting for Earth, when only one of the backgrounds has her actually having a personal connection to it. At first, I head-canon'd it away as 'fighting for Anderson and the SA troops stuck on Earth', but I like how this turned out.
> 
> Hackett talks about how you can 'order a soldier to fire a gun, you can order him to charge the enemy and take a hill, but you can't order him to believe', and he's absolutely right. The galaxy believes in Shepard, but what does she have to believe in? Not much, and not nearly enough.
> 
> Was it dumb? Did you hate it? Was it the best thing ever? (Pbbbth, yeah right.) Let me know in a comment! :D


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